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Something had to give. Nine years ago, Moby set precedents within the music industry and re-examined the way that the public consumed music when he licensed Play (an excellent record certainly, but most of his are and are also doomed to flop) to any advertiser interested; thus thrusting the album into the public’s face no matter where it turned. It worked of course—Play still holds the record for the best-selling title in the DJ’s catalogue. Recognizing that there might be something to this theory, Moby’s label did the same thing with the follow-up, 2002’s 18. Unfortunately the songs weren’t as good and a bad case of Moby’s own vocals caused the album to tank in much the same way every one other than Play has. To put it on none too fine a point, did anyone even know that its follow-up, Hotel, existed? I didn’t either. ‘Nuff said.

That cycle began nine years ago and now, well over forty, Moby is faced with the twin crises of trying to figure out how to recapture public attention and mid-life.

Last Night isn’t what anyone would have hoped for as far as restoring the vigor of the DJ’s career is concerned. As stated in the liner notes that accompany the disc, Moby has fond memories of dancing the night away at one club or another (I thought he was the fill-in drummer for Flipper back then? Which story is full of shit?) and this album is apparently his homage to that time and the exhilaration he felt.

In the strictest of terms, the album succeeds in its intended purpose. Packed with tons of retro samples that sound as if they came from ABBA and a host of R&B acts both Up- and Motown, the album plays like an 80s nightclub fire damage sale that will probably have a place both on gay and college nightclub dance floors simply for the kitsch novelty of it—but the odds of it having any staying power or lasting appeal are pretty far removed though. There are upsides to it—Moby wisely remains silent and enlists a host of other singers to run the mike—but honestly the best it manages is forgettable (“Live For Tomorrow” isn’t bad, but still only sounds like a rehash of The Stars of Club 54 while “Alice” is memorable for 419 Squad’s back-up) and those moments that are memorable are so because they’ll inspire cringes even in the devout (see “Ooh Yeah” and “I Love To Move In Here”).

If this is the best that Moby’s got left, it’s unfortunate that there’s not much hope. Can he redeem himself? Of course he can. Moby is the ultimate disposable star—every few years he gets recycled from an abysmal commercial failure with the prior triumphs he’s experienced intact and unblemished by any of his multitude of creative faceplants.

Last Night is out now on Mute.

More on Moby here: www.myspace.com/moby and www.moby.com